


rain will make the flowers grow

by morphineinatin



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst with a Happy Ending, Complicated Relationships, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25359208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphineinatin/pseuds/morphineinatin
Summary: Five times Persephone starts an argument, and one time that she doesn’t.
Relationships: Hades/Persephone (Hadestown)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

I.

-

Only three years married and Persephone was already breaking routine. Not by much, mind, just twelve hours extra with her husband whom she still adored like a newlywed that she was sure the mortals wouldn’t miss. Even so, this little half-day she’d snatched up for herself had taken a downright battle with her own mama. And mama was a war veteran, and battles were what she’d been raised by. She was a good fighter, skilled as much with her words as she was with that scythe that sent men running for the hills, she was, but her baby had gotten her and her daddy’s bull-headed stubbornness. Persistent to the point of annoyance on getting a full day added on to her winter ended up with Demeter backed into a corner having no choice but to compromise. Twelve hours started in the middle of the night. Normal couples would want rest. Would wait until the morning do whatever they pleased. They had never been a normal couple. 

She hadn’t gone easy. Never did go easy. Hadn’t gotten married easy. Demeter had fretted and frowned over her daughter as usual, but it would still be a while now before Persephone would lose her irateness. She’d roll her eyes and swat away her mother’s hand like a particularly overprotective fly and remind her that yes, she’ll be safe, and that no, in fact, her name isn’t “the maiden” anymore and she is the queen of the underworld who’s name should be respected, thank you very much mama. 

“Will he be waitin’ for ya?”

“‘Course he will, mama,” Persephone answered quickly, packing some flowers into her bag. He took his time to admit it, but he really loves her flowers. So far from what he creates, it really fascinates him, and she thinks it’s the sweetest thing about him that don’t involve feeling some part of him on some part of her. He’s got favourites too. Likes carnations best. Red ones. She’d been planting these things like all hell the past week or so. “Always is, he can’t go much place else.”

“No, I mean on the road down there.”

“What do you mean?”

“Will he be there to get ya down safe?” Demeter asks, and if she’s trying to mask over her concern she’s doing an impressively bad job. 

Persephone takes a second to think. He’s not, obviously, she’s not much of a forward thinker and she knows he’ll like the surprise so he ain’t heard a word about her early arrival, but mama appears to think a little higher of her in those aspects than perhaps she should. 

“Said he’ll meet me halfway,” she answers in what is technically almost true. He won’t be meeting her halfway. So she’ll be walking both halves by herself. Half true when you give it some thought or when you want it to be. She’d already be walking half by herself, the second still alone wasn’t much different. What in their right mind would cross the recently crowned queen of hell who’s absence killed the entire surface world? 

Demeter seemed satisfied by that answer and, to Persephone’s relief, refrained from questioning the matter further. She still wasn’t fond of her son-in-law who was older than ever she was, and Persephone knew that, but she’d bite her tongue when her daughter got that excited little spring in her step and spark in her eye. She wanted her to be happy. Couldn’t understand how that man made her happy, but she was smiling and that was good enough for her. They went through the usual going away routine. Long, long hug from mama, lots of “I love you”s and “I’ll miss you”s and kisses all over her still youthful face. 

When mama does let her go, Persephone does nothing short of springing out of the door, quick to bolt like her father’s lightening back to what she had called home before it really was. Despite her powers, her birthplace, her upbringing, her family, the underworld was where she felt welcome. Where she felt like she belonged. Where he was, and he’s her real home at the end of the day. 

The road to the underworld is a dark one. Dangerous caverns of jagged rocks and precious metals that surrounded her. She was still a little unsure of her footing, and she tripped once or twice, but the small tear in the dress her mama made her and the golden ichor staining her knee wasn’t something she would think twice about.

Their house is big. Far too big for two people who spent most of their time together in their bedroom, even more ridiculous when one considers that it was solely inhabited by one god for a good few decades, perhaps even a century or so, before she’d come along. But she likes it. Never has been one to care about the expensive things her husband rules over, but she likes the space even if it always goes unused.

When she started her search for him, calling his name out once or twice, she hadn’t expected to find him asleep when she returned. His kind were different, the pantheon that he and her parents were born of. Had a lot of little generational differences to her, he did, and it fascinated her to discover. Part of that was less, if any, requirements to rest. She could go without sleep for a while, far longer than any mortal would manage before their psyche reached the point of no return, but it was something she enjoyed despite the fact. She enjoyed so her husband decided that he did too. So when she found him asleep alone in their big bed, it took her by surprise. 

Even more so, he wasn’t on his side. He was laying in her half of the bed, head pressed against her pillow, breathing in whatever of her flowery scent still remained from the past winter. Setting her bag carefully down at the bedside, Persephone watched as her husband’s chest rose and fall with slow, deep breaths, admired what she could see of his body. He had the form of a warrior, all iron hard muscles and jagged edges and enough scars to fill a gallery. He doesn’t like them. Reminds him of the bad times, he tells her, before she had come along into his arms. She does. She hopes she can attach some better memories to those marks some day. 

He looks real peaceful in that moment, her man does, and she’s almost tempted to just leave him like that. Get into bed beside him and see how long it takes for him to realise. But she can’t do that, can she? Because he’s on her side. 

He’s a deep sleeper for the most part, so she doesn’t worry about waking him when she moves the covers off of his frame. He was exposed entirely above the waist, a discovery that she greatly appreciated. Maybe he had gotten the idea she was coming. Thought he’d give her a bit less to throw to the floor. A wise decision on his behalf, that was. 

Mama insisted on keeping her hair tied back. More for practical reasons if anything else, field work and lose curls did not a clean harvest make, but she’d still complain about it. Down here, though, she always wore them out. The king loves her hair. Can barely keep his hands away from it. She’d be more offended if he did keep them off. 

The young goddess frees her hair and sighs happily as she feels it fall past her shoulders. Doesn’t quite reach her waist yet, stops at her mid back. She wishes it were longer, but hey, she’s got an eternity. Forever to grow her hair and forever forget husband to adore it. Because they will be forever, and she doesn’t think about that half they must spend apart. 

She displays a bright grin as she watches the sleeping god a moment or two longer, because it’s really just hit her that yes, she’s finally back here, she’s back home with the one she loves most in the world and she doesn’t have to leave for six months that never feel long enough but damn, they’ll have to make do until mama lets up on this whole custody ordeal. Her body feels warm before she’s even reacquainted herself with the touch of his skin beneath her fingertips. She loves this man, loves him more than she can say, more than anybody thought to be possible. Loves him to the point where it overwhelms her, where she wants nothing but him in this life that drags on until the universe meets its demise. 

She loves him. She’s missed him. 

She decides then to stop just standing and wasting time. Everything they have is on a time limit, and she has never been too blinded by mad love to see that, to realise their arrangement for what it was. They only have half a year. Better make every second count. After all, the memories will all they have to keep them satiated over the course of a lonely summer that surely lay ahead. 

At that, Persephone doesn’t waste a second more I’m letting her husband know she’s arrived. She climbs up onto the bed, straddling her husband and running her hands up his firm chest. His breath falters for a moment, which makes her smile. His head is still turned to the side, pressed into what is supposed to be her pillow, and that, now that’s not convenient for her at all, is it? 

One of her slender hands moves upwards to cup his jawline, enjoying the sharp edge against her soft palm. She turns his head, and he stirs slightly, and damn, how deep of a sleeper can a man who doesn’t need to rest be? She pauses for just a moment, because gods above and below, he’s handsome and he’s perfect and she’s just so, so very in love with him. She hopes that he knows it too, how her heart beats for him alone and how he’s the only light that she needs in his underworld. Maybe on day she’ll gather her words enough to let him know. But for now, she makes do with a long awaited kiss to his lips. 

She holds it for a while. Sighing happily, tracing his jawline, practically melting into him when his hands grasp her smaller body. He’s awake. Good. 

When the need to see him grows unbearable, she pulls her face back, but her hands stay holding his face like the most precious gemstone in his mines, like he’s some priceless treasure she dare not let go of, because he is, at least he is in her eyes. 

Hades is gazing up at her in what she reads as disbelief. One of his large hands slowly runs up her back, as if he’s trying to tell if she’s real or not. Another wide grin takes ahold of the young goddess’ face, and she can’t help but kiss him again because fates, she loves him and she wished she’d never left him. She wished she didn’t have to leave him again, she wished she could have the same year round schedule like the rest of their mess of a family. But they don’t. Maybe someday they will. But for now, she must make do. 

“You’re early...” Hades mutters as she pulls back again. Persephone runs her fingers through her husband’s dark hair, and she doesn’t mind the hints of grey peppered through it. She loves him far too much to care. 

“I missed ya,” she responds, lowering her body to be closer to her husband’s body. “Wrangled myself a couple hours for me and you. Mortals won’t mind that.”

She giggles, but Hades still doesn’t seem to have realised that she’s actually here, that she’s not some hallucination born of a desperate man’s longing for his wife. 

“I’m real, lover,” Persephone purrs to him in hopes to reaffirm her presence. “And I ain’t goin’ nowhere, either, not for a real long while.”

A smile finally reaches Hades’ face, faint but still present as he begins to believe her words. 

“I...” he begins, but his words trail away. His hands fall just a tad lower, resting just above the curve of her hips. She’s never been the curviest of women despite her status as a fertility goddess, but he doesn’t mind it. He holds her like she is the most beautiful goddess alive. One day she hopes to believe it. “I missed you too.”

They kiss again, and then again, and again and again and again because there’s six months of missed time to make up for. She takes in the warmth of his body beneath hers, his hands grip a little tighter, a little more possessively which she has always loved. She loves being his. She loves him being hers. It doesn’t take the two long to put that bed to good use. 

When they’re finished, Persephone is wrapped up in his arms as her breathing slowly returns to its regular pace. Her dense mass of curls are sticking to the back of her heavily marked neck, slick with sweat, and her husband’s hand quickly returns to it’s place among them. She flashes a smile up at him, and his eyes are dark with adoration for his beautiful little wife. 

“Believe I’m real get?” she teases, and her husband nods with a smile. 

“Sure do. Caught me by surprise, is all.”

“Surprised me too, you did,” she adds, and Hades raises an eyebrow in questioning. “Since when you started sleepin’ when I ain’t here?”

“Helps pass the time,” her husbands answers plainly. “When I’m longin’ for ya, might as well try to see ya in my dreams.”

Her heart trembles at that. Oh, her husband. Her poor, lonely husband. How she wished she could be with him when he was hurting. 

“Lover...”

Her arms coil around his strong body and she holds him as tight as she can. She hides her face against his shoulder, burying it their like it’s the grave she’ll never have.

The air around them is somber as the hours of heat die down. But that’s not how she wanted to end the night. She came here to make him happy. She wanted to keep him happy. 

“Still,” she eventually spoke up, “ain’t no excuse to take up my side of the bed.”

She catches the sound of Hades chuckle, and that’s a real good sign here. 

“What? I’m serious, lover, this ain’t a laughin’ matter.”

She pulls back just enough to meet his eyes again. Her voice remains serious, but her smile dictates a different story. 

“Wasn’t anticipatin’ you’d see me there.”

“And that’s an excuse, is it?”

Hades exhales a breathy laugh and presses a light kiss to his wife’s forehead. 

“Your mama’s starting to rub off on ya.”

“Shut up.”

Persephone’s face nestles back in its place against her husband’s shoulder. Her eyelids feel heavy, the rising and falling of her chest starts to slow. 

“Guess you’ll just have to keep a close eye on me then, won’t ya?” Hades asks, rubbing circles into his wife’s back as sleep starts to take ahold of her. 

“Mmh... guess I will,” Persephone agrees, and she lets her eyes close. She’s happy. She’s home. She loves him.


	2. Chapter 2

II.

-

The first days of spring were biting at Persephone’s heels like a hungry dog after a bone.

Yet another six months had come and gone in the blink of an eye. It was a bittersweet feeling, she found, pulling a few dresses from their large shared closet and doing her very best to fold them into her suitcase. She’s still not very good at that part of packing. Mama never taught her as a girl and she’d insisted that she knew what she was doing when travel skills became a needed lesson for her.

One the one hand, she misses her mama. She misses the mortals. Misses the feeling of the sun on her shoulders and the wind in her hair. She loves the underworld, of course, don’t get her wrong there, brother, but it’s no replacement for what she’d grown up with. Hades knows that. She does go on a little about the world up on top. She never thinks about how that may convey itself in her husband’s mind. Maybe she should have.

She’s got her own little garden down here; grows whatever she can get to take life in the kingdom of the dead and talks to ‘em like they were the babies she and her husband had talked about having perhaps once or twice and maybe wordlessly hoped for every time the potential for somethin’ to take hold was there but never planned or discussed in detail. Probably a good thing, that, she can’t imagine she’d be a good mother. Too impulsive, too carefree, too in-a-custody-arrangement-between-my-mana-and-my-husband which she can’t imagine there’s much advice for. She spends a lot of time with her plant babies though. She does like her little garden. She does, really. But really, it ain’t the same. 

She likes it down here. Likes the darkness, likes the chill, downright adores every inch of her steely husband. But it still ain’t the same. Ain’t no replacement for the orchards or the meadows or that glorious sunlight she revels in. 

It’s hard for her to explain, especially to a man who hasn’t seen the surface world in what she presumes is centuries, but she knows how she feels. Knows she misses her first home.

On the other hand, however, she ain’t even left yet and she’s feeling homesick for this place. She loves her kingdom, regardless of how drastically different it is from her mama’s domain above, not entirely but because it’s one of the few things that she has in life that are truly hers. Her and her man - the only other thing she’s got to lay claim to - rulin’ side by side took some getting used to, admittedly, but damn if she didn’t get there. Half hers, but still hers nonetheless. 

The surface world ain’t her place, not really. Was born up there, has powers that serve best up there, but it ain’t her place. Before her husband and come to sweep her off her feet, mortals ain’t never paid her much mind. She was always an afterthought, always just viewed as Demeter’s daughter rather than her own woman; now she’s the queen of the underworld. The Bringer of Death herself. And that change also took some getting used to but she likes it. Doesn’t like the name itself too much but likes what it shows her she’s accomplished despite the odds she’d had stacked against her. Likes how she snagged herself a title. Who wouldn’t take pride in that?

She misses her husband, too, even when she’s still in their house, still in their room, while he’s still just a few rooms away because he don’t like watching her getting ready to leave him. She doesn’t blame him. Their back and forth, their part-time marriage, had been weighing on both of them over the recent years. If she’s bein’ completely honest with herself, Persephone had always secretly hoped, expected the agreement she’d made with her parents in exchange for this marriage would go away, at the very least would change along the way, when they realised how committed she was to this man of hers. 

But it didn’t. It couldn’t. The world needed her to survive, to grow and to thrive beneath her touch as her presence banished the frost of the months past. And it would always need her. She would always have to leave. And it would always hurt. Hurt her as much as it hurt him. 

She knew it hurt him. Even when he held himself together, which he had been doing in recent times, she knew him too well to ignore the smaller signs. The wavering in his voice, the longing in his eyes, the way he held onto her hand a little longer and a little tighter than usual. The way he sometimes wouldn’t let go. He’d always beg her to stay just a day longer, always would, and she’d always tell him that she would if she could but she ain’t got a choice in the matter if she doesn’t want the blood of every creature walking the world above on her hands - which, for the record, despite her commonly given title, she doesn’t. 

He had been quiet this month. Had been the last month of last year too. And those proceeding it. Was worse than usual this time, at least it felt so for her. Distant. Far away even together with her in bed. She didn’t address it directly, didn’t ask him why he was adding a little too much ice that would be melted by the foundries he was yet to build to some drinks she was yet to start relying on for support, but she’d tried to brush it away as best as she could. It was relatively easy to understand why it was he opted for this method; it’d make the inevitable departure just a tad less hard on his heart if he began the process before she was away. But she wished he’d find a different method. Wished that he’d do something that wasn’t hard on her heart and made this easy as it could be. She would rather make the most of the very limited time they had left together when spring began to fear its head. She wanted her husband, and she wanted to be held and treated and loved like his wife. Wanted one of those good, long, possessive cuddles he gave at night ‘stead of just lying in his arms like he don’t even notice she’s there half the time where she is.

Her suitcase didn’t carry much. She had plenty down here she ain’t never brought up with her, plenty of pricey black gowns her mama would never let her wear that weren’t made to leave the underworld. Lots of jewels and gold and silver and everything expensive under the sun that her husband could find to adorn her with that stayed here below all year round. Wearing her wealth above above was an idea that didn’t sit too well with her, felt to her like she’d be flaunting her status above those mortals won she’d always viewed as her equals, every glint as her priceless attire caught the light a subtle little reminder of her divinity, her blood an even richer gold than that which gilded her her neck and her wrists. 

This marriage placed her further above her mortal friends than she’d ever really wanted. Just came with the territory, she supposed, but she’d avoid reminding them of it when she could. Wore the dresses her mama made her back up top, bore no jewellery besides her wedding band. She’d never considered how her husband may misread it. How he may reach the conclusion that she simply didn’t want to bear a reminder to herself that he was her husband, that this was her domain. That she was escaping him of her own volition, as if she was truly that poor victimised child that the stories may suggest, and she lived as if she was an unmarried woman in her time up above with nothing to lead her mind back to the man below besides the ring that bound them. 

No, brother, Persephone had never considered that possibility as she closed her suitcase over, snapping it shut. Her fur coat lay on the floor at her side, a more recent gift from Hades the year prior that already bore grass stains ruining its pristine white. She’d brought her wicker bag with her, too, something her mama had made and embroidered by hand for her when she was a younger girl, and had emptied it if it’s flowers into a vase already so she could at least leave her husband with something of her own. Her garden wouldn’t live without her, so these would be the last survivors that he saw. 

He’d come with her to her garden at times, would just watch her in silent awe as she created life from nothing with just a wave of her hand. Even the simplest of her powers may have been the single most impressive feat Hades had ever witnessed. It was cute. She liked it. She wished she didn’t have to go six months without that. 

Six months was a long time to go without one’s lover. Some nights, Persephone was sleepless. The goddess just lie awake, staring out of her window at the peaceful nature beyond her mama’s home and willing time to speed up. She’d keep herself comforted by the memories she held of the sight of his smile, the touch of his hand, and when that wasn’t enough she’d try to remember what they felt like on her. 

Maybe mama would let him visit someday, the queen pondered as she stood, suitcase in hand and coat rested over her shoulders. She’d never asked fearing an argument may spark as a result. But now she’s a big girl, got herself a husband and a kingdom and all that jazz, she can stand her ground. 

For a moment or so, she just stands there. She won’t be here again for six months. Won’t see this room, won’t sleep in this bed. Half a year before she’d be back. She had thought things would get easier with time, but no such change had yet occurred. It was as hard for her as it was for her husband, the departure she made from home every year, but he didn’t seem to see it. 

Just as she turns for the door, to her surprise, it opens. Far less surprisingly, Hades stands in the doorway. Persephone smiles when she sees him, opens her mouth to say something, but the words die like unwatered flowers on her tongue when she notices how his coal black eyes are shining in the dim light. Her heart feels like it’s being pecked at by an impatient vulture within her chest, burning deep down in the pit of it. 

She knows why he appears so sorrowful. Knows it damn well. But there ain’t a thing she can do to help. 

Her suitcase drops to the floor and she runs towards her man, catching him in a loving embrace. Hades’ arms waste no time in holding her the same, his grip tight as a vice and all but yells “you are my woman” inside of her head, which does little but reconfirm to his wife how very, very much he is silently pleading for her to stay. 

Times like these he can get into a real bad sort of way. Only once has he resorted to begging, at least only once has it been on his knees, several times his desperation has brought Persephone to tears, but no matter what she can only try and kiss him better and leave all the same. What kind of wife was she, really? Abandoning the man who she loved - at least claimed to love - more than anything when she knew as clear as day that he was at his very worst and the only antidote to his poisons of misery was her presence at his side. He deserved better than her. She couldn’t stand the thought of him with another woman on his arm, but fates, he should have chosen someone else. 

“I love you,” she whispers, breathing in the slightly metallic scent of her husband as she grips him to her frame. She hopes he’ll remember, that he’ll know she ain’t leaving because she wants to, because she doesn’t want to. She misses her mama but she doesn’t want to leave. She misses the sun but she doesn’t want to leave. She misses the flowers but she doesn’t want to leave. But she will all the same, won’t she? And she always will.

Silence clings to them like a predators claws into flesh. They aren’t gods when they’re like this, they’re aren’t royalty. They are just a man and woman, husband and wife, longing for things to be different against all of the odds which they know are unchangable. 

“Stay.”

Persephone exhales a melancholy sigh, shaking her head. She looks up towards her husband, shooting him a gaze that she hope he reads as “please, don’t do this again”. He just looks miserable. She hates that look on him. Sadness don’t suit him.

“Please, just a day more, stay,” he repeats, almost in a whimper that does not suit his deep rumble of a voice, and her sorrow feels like it may burst from within her. 

“Hades, you know I can’t.”

She shakes her head, smoothing one hand over his shoulder as she struggles to maintain any eye contact with him. With her own husband. 

“Just a day-“

“Don’t do this, Hades. Not now.” 

His arms drop from around her and hers do the same. She takes a step back. Not a big one but enough to put a few centimetres of distance between them. She can’t read his expression to her own dismay, but she seems hurt. Seems offended by her words. 

“You know I gotta leave,” she continues, but her husband’s expression remains steady as anything. “This is as hard for me as it is for you. I don’t need your help makin’ it harder.”

The air feels tense between them now. They’ve still never had a proper fight as a couple. A few disagreements here and there, that was to be expected, and she would rather it stayed that way. But she couldn’t just hold out through his protests of her departure that only drove further stakes into her heart. She loves him, but gods, he has to understand that. He has to accept that this is the way things are and ain’t nothing either one of them can do about it. Once she’d eaten those seeds, the deal was done. Proverbial contract was signed. And a deal is a deal. 

Hades still doesn’t respond to her, and she’s got more to say, so she says it. 

“It’s just the way things are for us. World up top needs me-“

“I need you.”

“Let me speak, Hades!”

She didn’t mean to raise her voice but she had. And then she started sayin’ things that she hadn’t meant to say either. 

“Why ya gettin’ like this now? Hardly speak to me all month, been keepin’ up whatever this is for years, and then you’re beggin’ me to do something you know damn well I can’t, what’s about this had you confused? I can’t stay down here all year, I got a job to do!”

“You’re my wife,” Hades answers, and his answers suddenly came a lot quicker. He put emphasis on the word wife, almost hissed it out, and she don’t know how she feels about that. “I got every right to want to see ya.”

“That’s not what I’m- you know what, no. I ain’t ready for this now.” 

Persephone inhales deeply, calming herself before turning to lift her luggage back up from the floor. 

“Don’t want to leave on bad terms, lover, I know it’ll ruin the both of us,” she explains, and he finally decides that he might as well enter the room properly. Last time he’ll have her in it until autumn arrived. She steps towards him once more, bag and suitcase each in one hand and the other reaching up to cup his cheek. He holds it there, his larger hand over hers, and this is the first time this past month she’s really felt like he’s there and not a million miles away from her. “I love you.”

Hades gently pries her hand from his face, turning it and taking it in his own as he presses a kiss to her knuckles. He’s a gentleman, her husband, always was even when he was a desperate man in love on his knees in her mama’s garden. She smiles up at him, catches his lips with a kiss, and hopes he won’t do this again next year. Not this specifically, the kissing and the touching and the little reminders of love, but what had come before. 

“I’m runnin’ late,” the goddess sighs, because it’ll still be a while before that’s what everybody knows her for, being late. “I’ll see ya soon. Might ask mama if you can visit.”

She gives her husband one last kiss and she makes her way towards the doorway. Hades has other ideas. 

He mindlessly grabs her wrist and she turns swiftly around. Her eyes are wide, her brow furrowed, and she tried to snatch it away from him but he don’t let go, does he? He’s been clingy before, especially these last few years, but ain’t never this bad. 

“Hades, let go.” Persephone commands him like a dog that won’t obey. And he don’t obey. 

“Is it the kingdom?”

“Is it the-? Hades-“

“I’ll make changes, I’ll-“

“Hades!”

With a firm yank, Persephone frees her arm from his hold. She doesn’t realise until that moment how short her breath has become and how strong her husband is and how no, actually, she doesn’t like how possessively he holds her and how he grips her as tight as a vice and how he won’t let her go. 

“I’ll see ya next fall,” is all that she mutters as she exits the room. Doesn’t realise that he doesn’t hear her. Doesn’t make note of the fact that she never answered his inquiry. Didn’t assume it would matter. Was too shaken by what had just happened to really care. 

Persephone walks home alone. Hadesfights to keep doubt at bay.


End file.
